Wings

I’ve listened to people say that for the past couple of months. Have believed it and celebrated it. Only to find that it’s not nearly as easy as I thought it would be.

A friend of mine once told the story of how, for his young daughter, he caught a butterfly and put it into a Mason jar. At the end of the day, he took the lid off and expected the butterfly to fly away. Curiously, it didn’t. He left the lid off the jar, set the jar on its side and tried to coax the butterfly out of the jar. Slowly, slowly, slowly, it hopped out of the jar, but it was a long time before it would take off and fly.

I feel like the butterfly. My lid has been taken off. But I’m clinging to the glass, wishing that somebody would put the lid back on again. It’s too scary. Too demanding. Too foreign. What if? What if? What if?

What if they find out that I’m not as smart/fun/happy/accomplished/charming as they thought I was?

What if they find out that I’m more scared/confused/unteachable/inflexible/religious than they thought I was?

What if I can’t get a good job?

What if I can’t adapt to my new surroundings?

What if all of my friends abandon me the way others have in the past?

What if all of my fears come true?

Today, I was cowering in my jar when I saw a friend who needed me to step out of the jar to help them. And I realized that as safe as it feels to stay in my jar, it severely limits how many people I can help.

And so I continue to hop, hop, hop, a tiny bit closer to the mouth of the jar each day. Hoping that no big hand swoops down and smashes me when I poke my head out of the jar.

Comments

I look forward to the day when you reach the lip of that jar and spread your wings again. You might be surprised at the welcome you receive, a taste of which you’ve already experienced, but don’t be. We’re here. Ready when you are. Knowing you need to emerge on your own time, in your own terms.

When you did peek out of the jar yesterday, I, for one, was blessed.

Weigh your fears against the love you already know exists for you in your new home. I think you’ll become comfortable with the balance because the love is the strength. A strength you are welcome to lean on whenever it’s needed.

When I was 13 years old, I stumbled across my friend, Corie, writing a letter. When I asked Corie what she was doing, she responded, “Writing a letter to Daddy God.” Those six words changed my life. And ever since, no matter where life has taken me, I’ve had a journal within arm’s reach. In March of 2009, I began to share my thoughts and lessons and prayers with you. And so, here we are. By day, I’m an administrative assistant, freelance writer and editor. I blog here at Living Between the Lines, while simultaneously living outside lines. I’m originally from the Crystal Coast of North Carolina. Today, I happily make my home in the suburbs of Portland, Oregon. Join me between the lines. You’re welcome and safe within them.